


down among the weeds, down among the thorns

by khlassique



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, tam lin au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 04:32:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khlassique/pseuds/khlassique
Summary: "Once, in the kingdom of ravens, a lady went to the woods and found a castle surrounded by roses. This was the not the same dark castle of her father, where she and her twin had rooms in a corner in which they could be forgotten, but one made of white stone, grey in places from the passage of time.The lady, scared of nothing and knowing full well this castle was not where it was supposed to be, for the woods were as familiar as her twins’ face, set off to investigate."Perc'ahlia Tam Lin AU





	down among the weeds, down among the thorns

**Author's Note:**

> this is a horrific amalgamation of the tam lin ballad and critrole; i apologize for nothing

Once, in the kingdom of ravens, a lady went to the woods and found a castle surrounded by roses. This was the not the same dark castle of her father, where she and her twin had rooms in a corner in which they could be forgotten, but one made of white stone, grey in places from the passage of time.

 

The lady, scared of nothing and knowing full well this castle was not where it was supposed to be, for the woods were as familiar as her twins’ face, set off to investigate. Rose petals brushed her cheek and fell into her hair, shades of red and pink and yellow against black. The castle gate was closed, no smoke curling from chimneys, no familiar clatter of horses and voices. Circling the castle, the lady discovered there was no flaw, no entrance, and she frowned. There was always a flaw, and she could always find it; so she came back round to the gate and looked again at the roses. They were twice the size of the ones of her father’s garden, and the color more vibrant. They were beautiful things, and her twin liked beautiful things, if they were from his sister.

 

The edge of her dagger had just bitten through the base of a rose stem from which sprouted two blooms when a voice cried out, “Why do you cut my roses? How have you come here without  _ my _  leave, lady?”

 

Turning so fast the petals on her hair and shoulders showered around her feet, the lady beheld a tall man with hair white as the castle stone, and curtly spoke, “I did not know anyone would spite me for taking one rose amongst this multitude.”

 

He was handsome, this man with castle-white hair, with odd little glasses perched on a nose that looked as if it had been broken once. Handsome or not, his mouth curved down as he strode to her, hand reaching to take the roses without answering.

 

The lady stepped back out of his grasp, roses held behind her, eyes narrowing. “The woods of Carterhaugh are mine as gifted, and I would like to know who you are, and how this castle came to be here.”

 

“I am no one, and you have come to Whitestone, so I do not know why you think you own this land because it is mine, as I am Percival de Rolo  _ of Whitestone _ , and I do live here, and I- I do mind the loss of even a single rose.” At this, the man- Percival- stopped so close to her, and trailed off, as if surprised at the length he had spoken, and the forcefulness of it.

 

“But, Percival de Rolo of Whitestone, you cannot be no one if you have a name, and a castle, and this garden of roses.” She spun from him, to a safe space away, rose thorns pressing into her skin as the vines tangled closer behind. “Since you have given me your name, I shall tell you mine- it is Vex’ahlia- and hope you will grant me leave to take this rose to my brother, who is Vax’ildan. We are twins, you understand, so I bring him gifts from the woods, and from he to me gifts from the city.”

 

“This does not explain why you come here, and a rose is not such a simple gift, Vex’ahlia, especially from my garden, as they are dear, and it is a loss.”

 

“Should I pay you for it, then? To offset the loss, and make an even trade.”

 

Percival shook his head, looked at her from beneath the glasses, and said, “I have no use of gold.”

 

“Ah,” Vex’ahlia smiled, “but what of a kiss? More precious than gold, for more rarely given, and as an act of love it should fill the space this rose leaves, if you love this garden.”

 

“Would– would you visit me again, then, Vex’ahlia? Here, in the woods of Carterhaugh, in the garden of Whitestone, visit me– for friendship, I think, is now more precious to me than gold or a kiss.”

 

Vex’ahlia considered this, as she herself did not have many friends except for her twin-– which was not friendship, that which was her soul–  and decided she would visit this man with his sad eyes and mouth, to make him smile. “I will visit you, though you must call me Vex when I do, and I will call you Percy, as friends should call each other.”

 

“I was called Percy, once.” He paused, looking beyond her shoulder to see an image in the plants behind her back, but there was nothing there, and his gaze slid back to hers. “So I will be called again, it seems, by– by Vex, for which I’m honored.”

 

So Vex took the rose with her, and a new friendship, besides, leaving behind a man who, when she disappeared beyond the boundaries of his home, sat heavily on the ground.

 

Back in the castle where the lady Vex lived, in the room which was hers, next to the room of her brother Vax’ildan, in the tallest floor that was just below the attic, she sat at her vanity to brush her hair and look at the rose she had taken for the promise of returning to the strange place in the woods of Carterhaugh. Her brother sprawled in a chair by her fireplace, watching his sister watch the rose.

 

“Sweet sister, do you not think it strange a castle should appear like that, with only one man to live in it, who would not tell you how he came to be there?”

 

“What if- what if he wished to tell me, but could not? Like in a tale Mother once told us.”

 

“A tale, a story, a fraud- whatever it is, it is strange, and I would wish to join you, to meet this man and see if you are not being fooled.”

 

Vex turned to him and glared. “Oh, I am just a fool? You will not come with me, then, if this is how you see me. This Percy seems lonely, a feeling which we know intimately in our hearts, and I wish to solve the puzzle of this Whitestone.”

 

Hands brought up, palms open to ask forgiveness, Vax sighed. “Will you not take that bear with you, then, if you insist on collecting men and beast from the woods of Carterhaugh. You are dearest to me, you know.”

 

“And you dearest to me, so I will take the bear-- who is named Trinket, as I have  _ said _ \-- and go in the week, or sooner, for I think our father should be leaving again, and I will not be missed.”

 

Her brother laughed. “As if father should miss you or I otherwise, for all we are required to wait upon him.”

 

At that, she did not laugh, and merely sighed, and returned her attention to the black wave of hair over her shoulder. It was not that her father’s negligence laid heavy on her heart, for it had never held love for him, but that even her brother should doubt her.

 

The next day, she returned to the woods of Carterhaugh, and found the brown bear named Trinket, and together they went to seek Whitestone. But the castle was not there, not even the scent of roses on the breeze, and so Vex returned daily to find Percival- Percy- and his roses. She had promised friendship, and she would have it. Two weeks passed until she stepped into a meadow of roses, white walls rising into the shadows of the trees, and her heart was so joyful she called out to him as he stepped into view, “Percival! Percy, darling, I’m back, as I said I would be!”

 

“Indeed, you are, and with,” Percy paused, eying Trinket, “a friend, I see.”

 

“Oh!” Vex turned, telling the bear that he should say hello; he obliged by sitting on his haunches and holding out a paw, and she said quickly, “This is Trinket, who has been a good friend in my wanderings, and he would like to make your acquaintance.”

 

Percy was hesitant in laying a hand on a paw that dwarfed his own, but everyone was hesitant when meeting Trinket at first, and Vex did not mind. People came around, and if they did not, she did not think highly of them.

 

Her father, for example.

 

“Hello, Trinket,” said Percy rather gravely, and bear and man bent their heads to each other before stepping apart, and Vex beamed.

 

“Percy, darling, did you know I have searched for you for two weeks now?” She could not find it in herself to be so irritated with him, truly, but still his brow furrowed, as if she had presented him with an equation that did not solve itself correctly.

 

“Two weeks? To me you stole from the garden yesterday, but perhaps time travels different here in my isolation.”

 

Vex tilted her head and looked at him, but he seemed to tell the truth; another puzzle for her to solve. Wrapping a hand around his wrist, she asked, “Could you show me the castle? Or is it locked? I could find no entrance.”

 

“The castle is closed to me, but is open to what keeps me here.”

 

“And what keeps you here?”

 

Frustration clouded his features, arm flexing under her grip. “A deal gone wrong, or a deal I was not aware I was making, or everything was stolen.” He looked at her and reached his free hand to adjust his glasses, metal glinting in the bright sun of this unnatural meadow. “Come, and sit, and I will explain as best I can.”

 

They sat on a wooden bench, enveloped in the scent of roses, and the story was thus:

 

_ Once, in the kingdom of stone, a young man who was a third son and a tinkerer had a family who loved each other. The young man went abroad to find a teacher, and brought him back, and while they built many things together, the teacher opened the gates to a fae lord and lady, who killed his family and spared the third son. The third son was kept in mockery by the lord and the lady of the Briarwood, in a garden of roses, which were a favorite of his mother, and the locked structure of his home. The lord and lady required he give them the weapons he had built with his teacher, and he said he was building them for the Wild Hunt, but he was not, really. Like a queen of myth, he unraveled enough work each night to buy time, but they would know soon that he was a deceiver and feed him to that which granted them power, a shadow he only knew as a Whispered One. The young man who had been a third son but was still a tinkerer and now deceiver waited only to ride in the Hunt as he had before, but knew he would not return, for he had no weapon to offer. _

 

“That is why I am here, and Whitestone is trapped in a fae realm, for want of my gifts, and I remain useless, and soon to be dead.” In the course of the telling, Vex’s hand had found his, and her thumb rubbed over the bump of knuckles. His own elegant hand covered hers. Yes, elegant, she thought, with clever fingers.

 

“I will not let you die like that, Percy, darling; though our acquaintance is so short, I feel as if we can be something to one another.” The words left a space which was hopeful, which was expectant; neither of them laid claim to it.

 

_ I feel as if we can be something to one another  _ lingered over her hand on his hand and crept into his heart. He looked at she who had wandered into his gardens fearless, and felt something lighten.

 

“The hunt is at the next full moon. You will know me by my steed, which will be white. Knock me off the mount to claim me, and hold me tight, and fear me not, for who knows what tricks the lord and lady of the Briarwood should use.”

 

Vex considered this a moment, looked into his eyes with her own blazing, and said, “Yes, this I will do.” His knuckles to her lips to seal her words, but he was not satisfied with that and drew her to him, and they lay together in the tall grass for a long while.

 

It was two more weeks until the full moon, during which Whitestone only moved twice from its place in the woods of Carterhaugh. Together she and Percy tried to find entrance to the castle, attempting to scale the walls using a rope and hook which could not find purchase on the smooth white stone. He showed her the tools he built which the Lady and Lord of the Briarwood held so dear to keep him like this and called them  _ guns _ .Trinket napped under an arbor of blooms, a breeze knocking loose petals to drift onto his fur.

 

Then the day came, where the moon would be full as it rose, and Vex went to the woods of Carterhaugh, hers by right and by gift, as the sun set. Golden light cast everything into surreal relief, Trinket coming up beside to  _ whuff _  affectionately into her palm.

 

She settled into the crook of the path that was to intersect the Wild Hunt, which she had promised to be at to claim that which she loved, which was Percy, which was a man who smelled of gunpowder and regarded her gravely. Oh yes, she loved him; she loved few things, and guarded them as fierce as a dragon did a horde of jewels.

 

Night fell, cool and damp, and so rose a distant clamour of shouting and hooves and wild screeches, Trinket raising his wet nose to sniff the air. The coming party was preceded by the noise and the scent of rotting flowers and smoke, and by the time they arrived Vex had forced down the urge to retch into the tree roots several times. On steeds of red and black and chestnut, on steeds that were no beast Vex had ever seen before, on steeds with flames licking out of their eyes and tongues lolling devilishly, the Wild Hunt appeared, and her keen eyes sought out one beast, one man, a flash of white– 

 

Ah, there he was, his mount white as moonglow, white as his hair, his face covered by a mask made to look like a raven, beak cruelly curling over his mouth.

 

“Trinket, my dear friend, are you ready, as we have planned,” asked Vex, and the bear made an affirmative noise, so she leapt upon his broad furred back and clasped tight as he leapt forward into the fray, sprinting towards the sad strange man on his white horse. The bear and his rider drew level with the white horse, and Vex leapt nimbly up to stand on Trinket’s back, having learned this trick on a horse, and so was thankful at a bear’s back being much broader, before launching herself at Percy. She bore the brunt of the impact to the ground and skidded across old leaves, arms wrapped around his chest and one leg looped around his own.

 

At this, an interruption of the hunt, the noise died, and when Vex once more looked up she saw the lean fae figures of a man and woman, diadems across their brows, features casting odd shadows in the unnatural torchlight.

 

“You cannot have him,” Vex shouted with a fury, knowing who these two were, and hating them in her heart. “I have claimed him now, and he is mine, and I shall take him and Whitestone from you! It is now my right!”

 

The lady of the Briarwood tilted her head and drew her lip to show wicked teeth, and hissed, “You cannot take him, he who is  _ my _  tinkerer, and  _ my _  favorite–”

 

“–but perhaps,” drawled the lord of the Briarwood, “We will put you to the test, to see if you will claim him truly in all ways. Would you agree to that, little half-blood?”

 

Vex only glared, and grasped Percy tighter, and the lord and lady took this as an affirmation, for suddenly she held onto a golden lion with teeth that snapped uncomfortably close to her nose, but still she held tight–

 

–to burning embers, so hot she cried out but loosened not her grip–

 

–to a snake, twining tight enough to choke, and yet she held–

 

–to a cloud of smoke, which told her to  _ devour _ , made her a different kind of furious, and yet she feared nothing, least of all this whisp of a trick–

 

–to a man, again, but the man was naked except for his mask, and Vex whispered to him,  _ take off the mask, darling _ , as the lady of the Briarwood howled in anger, and her husband led her back to the Hunt, which resumed their beastly noises and fled to the West. So Percy reached a shaking hand and removed his mask, and looked at she who had held him tight and feared him not, and loved her truly, almost wondrously, for this. He looked around, and saw roses, and the stars, and a perfect moon, and she who was his heart.

 

He kissed her in the damp grass of the gardens of Whitestone, which was now part of the woods of Carterhaugh forever, for their children and the children after, for the family they quested to find safe, for her brother and themselves. It took some time before they, preoccupied by the grass and what one could do in it, noticed the gates to the castle stood open.


End file.
